


A Hobbit's Hearth: Tales of Yule in the Shire

by Chamelaucium



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Kid!Hobbits, Mistletoe, SO MUCH FLUFF, Snow, Yule
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2013-12-30
Packaged: 2018-01-04 09:25:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1079309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chamelaucium/pseuds/Chamelaucium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little ficlets about Yuletime in the Shire. Snow, mistletoe, mince pies... Festive little short stories to get everyone in the mood for Christmas!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Snow

**Author's Note:**

> These are little stories I'm writing as Christmas mathoms for my friends. As usual, fluff will abound! 
> 
> I hope you'll all enjoy. :)

**_Early Foreyule, S. R. 1290; Bag End_ **

'Look, Bella,' Bungo whispered. 'Look at the snow.'

Belladonna looked up from the bundle in her arms out of the little round window in the warm kitchen, where the flowers in the window-box were covered in a fine dusting of light, powdery snow. Little snowflakes were falling over so gently, drifting rather than falling; the sight was mesmerising and the little baby in her arms gurgled to get her attention again.

'Oh, I'm sorry, little Bilbo,' she cooed, stroking his cheek and making him giggle. He was twisting in his blankets now, as if trying to see what had so captured his Mama's attention.

'Let's take him out,' Bella said suddenly, a smile spreading on her face. 'Let Bilbo see his first snow!'

'But Bella, darling, it's so cold outside. He might catch a chill-'

'Oh please,' Bella stood, silencing her husband with a peck on the cheek. 'Don't be such a Baggins. I'll get some more blankets and he'll be fine.'

'You love my Baggins-ness,' Bungo said smugly. 'That's why you married me.'

Bella rolled her eyes and just kissed him again. Bungo laughed and went to fetch some more blankets. He gently wrapped his little son up in them, laughing at the gurgling noise Bilbo made as he smiled up at his Papa; Belladonna pulled on her coat and scarf and the three of them stepped out.

It was so calm, with barely a breath of wind. The gentle floating of the snowflakes captured Bilbo's attention and he stared up and around him, his eyes round and curious as he watched them sail past, flinching when one landed on his nose.

Bungo drew Belladonna close, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

'Happy Yule, Bungo dear.'

Bungo tightened his arm around her and smiled as Bilbo stuck out a pudgy arm to try and catch one of the frozen droplets.

'Happy Yule, Bella, my love. And Bilbo, my precious little boy.'

Little Bilbo just laughed, his voice carrying clear on the snow-muffled air.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I kind of forgot to post these so I'm doing it all in one go now! I hope you enjoy! :3

_**Foreyule , S. R. 1375; Bag End** _

Snow was falling lazily, drifting down as the morning turned to afternoon. It was already settling, deep enough that it crunched satisfyingly underfoot. Bilbo loved that sound, and he itched to go and take a turn in the kitchen garden; but today the snow was reserved for another.

It was still early in the afternoon when the knock sounded on his door, but it was already dark and the light from the sitting room window threw little golden circles of light onto the snow outside. Bilbo quickly hurried to the door on his ageing feet and threw it open.

'Happy Yule, Uncle Bilbo!' three voices chimed, and then Bilbo was enveloped in a huge hug.

'Come in, come in!' he urged, and Primula, Drogo and little Frodo were bundled across the threshold, flakes of snow unmelted in their hair and cheeks and hands pink with cold. Bilbo took their coats and ushered them to the fire in the sitting room before going to the kitchen and set about making a pot of tea. When he returned with three cups, a mug of warmed milk for Frodo and a plate of fresh mince pies, they sat around the fire until the others had thoroughly thawed out.

Frodo, having finished his cup of milk, immediately crawled onto Bilbo's lap, seating himself on his knee and looking up at him expectantly. Bilbo just chuckled and tugged at the lad's dark curls, eliciting a small giggle. Frodo leaned against Bilbo's chest, ear pressed to his heart.

'Uncle Bilbo, will you tell me your story about the dragon again?' he asked, looking up at Bilbo with his huge eyes. To date, Bilbo knew of only one person who was able to resist Frodo's stare, and that was his mother.

'Of course, Frodo my lad,' he said, grinning. Frodo snuggled further into his chest. And so Bilbo told Frodo the tale he'd heard many times before but that he never tired of hearing - the story of the great fire-drake who lived deep in the depths of the Mountain and who'd been defeated by a small hobbit...

By the end of it Frodo was bright-eyed and pink cheeked, and he immediately jumped up.

'Don't worry, Mama, Papa. Uncle Bilbo and I will save you from the dragon!' he crowed, and immediately he began running around the room, weaving in and around the furniture and making swooping noises as if he were flying. He looked back at where the adults were sitting laughing and, ever enjoying the attention, he dived under a table, whispering that the dragon was looking for him, but that he'd trick it just like his uncle Bilbo had.

Primula sighed as she watched her son race around the room chasing a pretend dragon.

'Oh Bilbo,' she said as she stood and pressed a kiss to his head. 'You know he'll never sleep after this?' Bilbo just waved her comment away.

'Of course he will,' Bilbo laughed. And later that evening, Frodo did indeed fall asleep, sticky fruit on his face from the mince pies and curls in disarray, curled up on his Uncle Bilbo's lap.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Foreyule, S. R. 1391; 3 Bagshot Row** _

'Ham! Hal! Quick, get up! It's snowing outside!' Sam shook his brothers roughly awake, throwing their clothes at them. He was already dressed and wrapped up warm in his coat and mittens, and was practically chafing at the bit to be outside. Hamson and Halfred grumbled as they left their warm cocoons of blankets, but they moved speedily to dress once out. Sam was already waking his sisters, with a lot more grumbling and a pillow thrown at him by Daisy.

Soon enough however the Gamgee children all stood outside, bundled up in their many coats and layers their mother had insisted they wear. Snow fell around them, tiny flakes dancing on the breeze which chapped at their hands and cheeks.

To Sam's delight it had begun to settle overnight, already an ankle-deep layer of cold, powdery snow lying over the frozen grass like a blanket.

May squealed as Halfred threw a snowball at her, some of it trickling down her neck and melting into a rivulet of icy water. Just as the girls were about to respond in kind, Sam knelt down and began to pat the snow into a ball and rolling it so that it grew gradually bigger and bigger.

'Don't waste the snow,' he said crossly, and Mari was the first to join him in making their snow-hobbit. The others, suitably chastised by their youngest brother, brought snow to add to the ever-growing snowball until it was at waist height, and then they made another, smaller one which Hamson lifted and placed on top of the larger one. While Mari ran inside to beg a carrot from their mother, the others sourced sticks for arms and pebbles for eyes, digging through the thick snow to find them. When Mari returned, pink-cheeked and cheerfully waving a carrot, they gathered round the snowhobbit and, with as much ceremony as six hobbit children can muster, stuck the carrot, pebbles and sticks into place.

Sam stepped back and admired their handiwork. It was a fine specimen of a snowhobbit - even that Tom Cotton's hadn't been as good as this one; wouldn't he be jealous to see this one?

Bell Gamgee's voice suddenly sounded, calling the children in to warm up and have some hot lunch and cocoa. The others all ran off, eager for the rare treat of cocoa, but Sam stayed by his snowhobbit a moment longer. Reaching out, he scraped the shape of a more pointed ear onto each side of the head, grinning as he did so.

All the stories Mr Bilbo and his nephew told him whenever he visited had left him fascinated with elves. And if the only elf he was going to meet was his own snow-elf, then that would do. Remembering his favourite tale that Mr Bilbo had told him, he named the snow-elf.

'Tata, Luthien,' he muttered, before running to join his siblings.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Foreyule, S. R. 1395; Brandy Hall** _

'Meriadoc, will you please stop pacing? You'll wear the carpet down.' Saradoc looked fondly, if a little exasperatedly at his son, before turning back to his book.

Obediently Merry stopped shuffling before the window and peering out every five seconds to make sure it wasn't snowing. Because, Yavanna forbid it, if it should start to snow then they wouldn't be able to travel to Great Smials for Yule that year, and Merry did want to see Pippin so very badly.

'Merry, why don't you come and help me in here?' Esme called from the kitchen and Merry curiously poked his head around the door frame.

'What are we making?' he asked, the smell of sweet fruit and pastry and sugar proving too tempting.

'Mince pies, of course,' Esme said, and laughed as Merry's face lit up. 'I've already made the mix but you can help me make and fill the pies.'

Merry nodded, pulling on the apron his mother handed him and already running through various tricks in his head of how he could possibly sneak some of the pastry dough, or the glacé cherries chopped into the sweet, sticky fruit mix. Merry thought he was very sneaky - perhaps fuelled by Pippin's admiration and awe - but unfortunately for Merry, his mother was smarter and slapped his hand away every time he tried.

'Stop that, you,' she teased lightly. 'There'll be none left if you carry on!'

Merry stuck his tongue out, scrunching his face up; he shot his eyes open again as he felt his mother flick his nose gently and he had to fight the overwhelming urge to sneeze. There was white flour dusting his shirt and Merry laughed along with his mother, before he tried to flick some into Esmeralda's dark curls.

Esme laughed even harder and since she had the benefit of height, it was easy for her to swoosh some white, floaty flour onto Merry. This was war now, and he scooped some off the work surface before trying to catch his mother, who called out a little breathlessly, 'Sara! Come here and help me!'

A loud, mock sigh sounded from where Saradoc was seated, but within a minute he appeared in the doorway.

'What's all this then?' he said, mock frown on his face, but the slight upward curve to his lips ruined the overall effect.

'Mama put flour on me!' Merry cried indignantly, indicating his now flour-frosted shirt and braces. Saradoc laughed as he caught sight of Esme's flour-grey curls.

'You look like a little snow-hobbit,' Sara teased. 'You need to come and warm up by the fire...' So saying he scooped Merry up into his arms and carried him back to the sitting room, Merry laughing and wriggling all the way. But he stopped when his Papa sank down into his big, plush velvet chair by the fire - the one Merry wasn't allowed to sit on - and instead Merry snuggled closer to his father as he pulled a book from the side table.

Lulled by Saradoc's soothing gentle voice and the warmth of his chest, Merry fell asleep curled up against his papa as the smell of mince pies wafted in from the kitchen.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Foreyule, S. R. 1395; Great Smials** _

'A little more to the right. Yes, yes - no, that's too far. Back a bit more - Pippin, don't touch the tree!'

'But I want to help Papa,' Pippin pouted at his mother, who sighed and smiled.

'Papa's managing just fine,' she said, grabbing Pippin's hand and pulling him to her side to stop him from trying to "help" Paladin place the tree. A little huff sounded from behind the tall pine as it was set on the ground, and Paladin stepped out from behind it, rubbing his hands together as he observed his work.

'There, that looks good, doesn't it?' he asked, sounding pleased with himself as he shrugged out of his jacket.

'It's wonderful, my dear,' Eglantine agreed, reaching out and giving him a hug. 'Girls, have you sorted the decorations yet?'

Pearl, Pimpernel and Pervinca were sitting cross-legged on the floor, sorting through boxes full of wreaths and baubles and little ornaments to go on the tree, and a basket full of fresh holly and ivy. Vinca was studying a thin glass icicle, light reflecting off it in little rainbows; Pearl suddenly laughed and held up a little sprig of mistletoe.

She stood and ran to her parents, standing on her tip-toes to hold the white berries aloft above their heads. Paladin laughed and leant down to press a gentle kiss to Eglantine's cheek, before she kissed him back properly.

Pippin covered his eyes until it was safe, then looked curiously at the sprig of mistletoe Pearl and Pimpernel were now reaching up to attach to the door frame. 'Why do you kiss when you stand under the berries?' he asked.

'It's mistletoe, Pippin. You just do, especially if it's someone you really love,' Eglantine said, smiling up at Paladin.

Pippin was silent for a moment. 'Does that mean I can kiss Merry when he arrives? I love him very much.'

The others looked at him for a moment before bursting into laughter, Vinca and Pim giggling away especially loudly.

'Oh, Pip,' Paladin said fondly, mussing his son's curls. 'I'm sure you can kiss Merry - if he wants to.' Pippin's face brightened considerably.

'He will,' he said seriously, climbing onto the window seat and staring out as if by looking hard enough he could make the wagon carrying Merry, Aunt Esme and Uncle Sara appear. 'He says I'm his favourite cousin, even more than Frodo.'

Pippin was staring so hard out into the now-darkening evening that he missed the gentle laughter of his parents and sisters; he was focused only on hoping it wouldn't snow just yet, as that would delay Merry. Although, it would be nice if it _did_ snow later - Merry could help him build a snowhobbit. Maybe they'd call it Pippin.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this isn't hobbits, but I wanted to give old Radagast some love :D

_**Rhosgobel one year...** _

'Radagast? Are you there?' Radagast peered cautiously around the tree trunk growing through the middle of his home, but he brightened considerably when he saw the grey-cloaked figure standing by the door.

'Gandalf!' he cried, stepping out from behind the tree and tucking Rudy the rabbit into his oversized pocket. Rudy had pulled a muscle in his back leg while leading Radagast's sled and he had been busy giving him a little pain-killing syrup when the knock on the door had startled him. 'What are you doing here?'

'What am I doing here - Radagast, it's Yule! I've come to celebrate Yule with you,' Gandalf said, shaking his head in disbelief but smiling fondly at his friend. 'Saruman's busy celebrating with the Ents this year.'

'Goodness gracious, it's Yule? Today? Do you know, I'd quite forgotten... Would you like some carrot?' He offered Gandalf the carrot he'd been trying to coax Rudy to eat, but Gandalf reached for his knapsack and placed on the larger, if slightly rickety table.

'I _rather_ thought we might enjoy a bit of Yule pudding and some mulled wine,' he said, his eyes bright with mirth. 'Would that be agreeable to you, Radagast?'

'Oh, Yule pudding? I haven't had that in _Ages_ ,' Radagast said, eyes wide. Gandalf grinned and pulled out a flagon filled with a spiced, rich wine and a large, divine-smelling pudding, heavy with raisins and fruit and alcohol. Gandalf gently warmed them, using that fire he was so adept at wielding, and then he and Radagast settled down at the table for a Yule meal together. Radagast kept Rudy close and fed him little bits of the pudding and when they were both full Gandalf magicked a fire into the grate and he and Radagast caught up with all they had missed.

And, later, once they were warm and full and sleepy, if Gandalf saw Radagast chew thoughtfully on the carrot he said nothing, instead letting his eyes drop closed as Yule turned to New Year's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's the end! I hope you enjoyed these insanely fluffy festive snippets. :3

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Bilbo is 4 months old here. :)


End file.
